


Impulse

by orphan_account



Category: Starfighter (Comic)
Genre: Flirting, Forced Separation, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-17
Updated: 2012-12-17
Packaged: 2017-11-21 08:32:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/595652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which a civil exchange and some forced handholding quickly devolves into something more. Cain/Encke, with references to Cain/Abel and Encke/Keeler.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Anonymous](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anonymous/gifts).



> Posting here as I'm going to try to work that Cain/Praxis forced handholding request into this story.

Cain leaned back against the bar, nursing his beer and glaring as Abel sidled up to some other little blond navi, one with stupid long hair like a girl, and put his arms around him, swinging his hips in time with the music, blushing when the other navi slipped an arm round his waist and leaned in close. Cain wanted to put a stop to it and didn’t, equal parts pissed off and turned the fuck on.

“Reliant.”

Cain turned his head to find Encke standing beside him, looking smug and sipping a bottle of cheap beer. He looked so out of place in his civ clothes—black shirt, pants and army boots—that Cain wasn’t half as intimidated by him as he usually was.

 “Sir,” he forced out, lip curled.

Encke turned his eyes to the dance-floor then and Cain followed the line of his gaze. He was watching Abel and the other navi dance, and from where Cain was standing it looked like his eyes were lingering on Abel’s cute ass.

“That your navi?” Encke asked.

Cain ground his jaw. “Yeah,” he bit out. He wanted to tell Encke to fuck off somewhere else, that the last thing he wanted was to have his shore leave ruined by this asshole, but he kept his mouth shut. If he showed Encke cheek now the man would only ride his ass twice as hard once they got back to the Sleipnir.

“Nice,” Encke said, blatantly leering now, watching raptly as the long-haired navi slid his hands up and down Abel’s sides and giggled something into his ear. They were both drunk as hell and flirting with each other, right in front of Cain’s face like Abel didn’t give a fuck what Cain thought about it.

Encke’s expression hardened too, the longer he watched, and Cain finally snapped, “You should watch where you’re looking; he’s mine. And what’s your fucking problem anyway?”

Encke shrugged and didn’t look at him, sipped at his beer. “The other one’s mine,” he answered, swallowing, unfazed by Cain’s tone.

Cain blanched. “That’s the lead fucking navi?” He whipped round to look back at Abel, suddenly grateful he hadn’t stormed over there to rip the little fuck off of Abel, punch him and tell him to keep his wandering hands to himself. Keeler had a reputation, and Cain had no doubt it wouldn’t have ended well for him.

“They’re both drunk as fuck,” Encke said with a snort, shaking his head, managing to look both annoyed and amused.

“Tch,” Cain said, nodding his agreement.

Encke turned to him after a moment, noting his empty bottle, and said, “You want another beer, Reliant?”

Cain narrowed his eyes at Encke, suspicious, but shrugged a shoulder. “Sure.”  Maybe Encke wasn’t such a prick when he was out in the real world, though Cain didn’t expect it to last, knew Encke would only be giving him shit the second they got back to the ship.

Encke winked at him as he pressed the cold bottle into Cain’s hand, smirking as their fingers brushed. Cain found himself blushing like a teenaged fucking girl and hurried to finish his drink, grumbling a quick thank you before he took off to the men’s to take a leak.

He spotted Deimos on his way there, pressed up against a wall by someone Cain didn’t recognize, a hand on his ass and in his hair. Cain growled and saw red, grabbed the asshole by the back of his shirt and threw him to the floor.

“Fuck off,” he snarled with a jerk of his head, as the dark-haired man looked up at him with wide eyes. He scurried off after that and Cain turned to face Deimos with a disgusted look, Deimos looking down at his feet with a guilty expression.

Cain shoved his shoulder. “Get your ass home,” he ordered. When Deimos didn’t move he snapped, “I said get the fuck out of here!” and Deimos jumped away from the wall and disappeared, quick to do what he was told once Cain got angry enough.

Cain went to find Abel after that, finally ready to drag him home, and Abel whined as Cain pulled him off Keeler, who kissed Abel on the cheek before Cain could stop him. Abel waved drunkenly as Cain dragged him away, pouting a little, and Cain let him droop his head against his shoulder, slipping an arm round his waist to hold him steady as they made their way to the exit.

He spotted Encke on his way out, one arm draped around Keeler at the bar, and acknowledged them with a curt nod. Encke nodded back and Cain left it at that, wondering how fucking awkward it was going to be once they got back to the ship and he was Encke’s favorite target again.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is your handholding, anon!
> 
> Warning for Cain being a big meanie to Deimos. 
> 
> Also, I've borrowed the name of the ship 'Lazarus' from [asocialconstruct's](http://http://archiveofourown.org/users/asocialconstruct/pseuds/asocialconstruct) [Negotiation ](http://http://archiveofourown.org/works/501184/chapters/879884) because I am unimaginative and lazy. I'm sorry and I hope that's okay, SC!

It didn’t take long for Cain to get himself in the shit with Encke again once they were back aboard the Sleipnir. Wasn’t his fault, though—Praxis and his big fucking mouth were to blame for everything this time.

He knew Cain was on edge with Abel gone and still went straight for the throat, pulling Deimos away from him when Cain shoved him in the mess, threatening to report him if he ever put a hand near him again. Cain had snorted and shoved Deimos again after that, sent him sprawling to the floor just to make his point, before throwing his lunch-tray at Praxis’ head, leaving the snotty bastard covered in whatever shitty slop the kitchens had decided to serve up that day.

It hadn’t gone over well. Praxis had grabbed him hard by the hair and yanked his head back, threatened him with a knee to the groin and a fist in the gut. Encke stepped in to break it up soon after that, growling at them both to haul ass to the front of the mess and stand at attention, everyone’s eyes on them now, Cain’s ears ringing in the sudden silence.

He barely stopped himself from swinging a punch as Encke loomed over him, poking him hard in the chest. “Something tells me you started this, Reliant.” His eyes narrowed to slits as he stared down at Cain.

“Wasn’t my fault.  _Sir_ ,” Cain spat with a little sneer. He threw Praxis a hateful look. “It was  _him_. He fucking started it, sticking his nose in my business and telling me how to treat my—”

“Your what, Reliant?” Encke interrupted him, voice cold and quiet. He didn’t have to raise his tone to send a prickle of fear down Cain’s spine. “Deimos?”

Cain cleared his throat. “Yeah.  _Deimos_. Whatever happened, it’s got nothing to do with Praxis, sir.”

“You shoved him.”

“He deserved it,” Cain shot back. He hadn’t really, but that was beside the point. Deimos didn’t mind being shoved around from time to time, and it was none of Praxis’—or fucking  _Encke’s_ —business anyway. Deimos wouldn’t hold a grudge about it and Cain didn’t know why anyone else, especially fucking  _Praxis_ , gave such a shit. Probably just wanted in Deimos’ pants, Cain thought, curling his hand into a fist.

It was never going to happen if Cain had anything to do with it, even if Deimos was a little slut when he thought Cain wasn’t paying attention. He wouldn’t fuck Praxis, though, not knowing how much Cain hated him. Cain had to trust him with that much.

“With all due respect, that’s not true, sir,” Praxis bravely cut in, earning him a harsh glower from Encke. He fell silent then and Cain smirked, feeling triumphant, until Encke wiped the look off his face with a stony glare.

“The two of you are getting to be a real pain in my ass,” he said through his teeth, looking back and forth between the pair of them now. “I think it’s time you both kissed and made up, did us all a fucking favour. Tell you what, I’ve got something in mind that’ll fix it real quick.”

“Yes, sir,” Cain and Praxis muttered at the same time. Couple of weeks scrubbing dishes or doing laundry wasn’t the worst thing in the world, even if it meant he had to do it with Praxis. With Abel gone for a month, Cain needed something to take his mind off the fact his bed was empty, sheets still smelling like Abel, the memory of his hands and lips and skin taunting Cain every time he shut his eyes to try and sleep.

Encke folded his arms then and smirked. “Reliant,” he said, jerking his head at Cain. “Tiberius. Join hands. You won’t be leaving this hall ‘til you put a stop to your piddly little feud and make it up. Go on now.”

“No fucking way,” Cain blurted, ignoring Praxis’ horrified look. Encke stepped closer to him then, until they were almost nose to nose, and murmured, “Would you rather hold my hand, Reliant?” Cain doubted anyone but him had heard that.

He went red and bit out, “I’m not holding anyone’s fucking hand, sir.”

“Reliant!” Encke growled and Cain jumped, swore under his breath and threw Praxis a rancorous look, curling his lip as he stuck his hand out for Praxis to take.

Praxis’ hand was warm and dry and the feel of his fingers--and thinking about where they’d been--made Cain’s skin crawl. He avoided looking at anyone, fixing his gaze on the grey wall ahead instead, muffled laughter echoing throughout the hall as everyone watching partook in the public humiliation. Entertainment was scarce aboard the Sleipnir, and this was about as good as it got.

Cain was glad at least that Abel wasn’t here to see this, still off working on an engine config for the Lazarus with a small team of navigators. If he was here then there was no way Cain would have ever gone through with this. Deimos was watching, Cain supposed, but that was different—Deimos had seen him in countless compromising situations and it had never changed the way he looked at Cain. Cain started to feel a bit guilty for shoving him then, knowing Deimos hadn’t really deserved it, but fast pushed the thought from his head. Wouldn’t do him any fucking good now.

“I’m gonna fucking  _gut_  you for this later,” Cain said to Praxis out the corner of his mouth.

“Like I want to do this either,” Praxis hissed in reply, affecting a disgusted little shudder. His fingers tensed around Cain’s.

Cain snorted. Whatever, he thought, the nosy bastard was probably getting off on every second of this, probably liked holding hands and cuddling more than he did fucking. Deimos liked getting fucked hard and rough, liked being held down and used, and Cain doubted Praxis had the stones to do it, was barking up the wrong fucking tree if he thought he was going to get Deimos to spread his legs with just a few sweet words and some bullshit display of chivalry.

It was nearly twenty minutes before Encke let them off the hook, smirking as Praxis hurried off blushing, ignoring the laughter and jeers coming from the fighters’ side of the hall.

Encke got up in Cain’s space again before he let him leave, smirking and looking him up and down lazily. Cain took a step back, not liking the way Encke was looking at him—like he was a toy, something to play with and laugh at, or worse, something he wanted to play with for a different reason.

Cain swallowed hard and tried to keep an impassive face, wouldn’t let Encke see he was intimidated.

“I should give you a public scolding more often,” Encke said then, wearing an amused look, eyes on Cain’s legs and not his face.

Cain bristled. “Sir?”

“You’re real cute when you’re blushing,” Encke told him, walking away and leaving Cain standing there speechless, Encke looking over his shoulder once, just in time to catch the confusion on Cain’s face.


	3. Chapter 3

He was in an even worse mood after that, pissed that Encke thought he could get to him this way—taunting him by flirting with him—when Cain knew exactly what he was doing, had used the same tactic before just to fuck with people.

Obviously didn’t know what he was getting himself into, though. Cain was better at this game and planned on pushing back, seeing just how far Encke wanted to take this little charade before he gave it up and left Cain the fuck alone. Cain doubted he had the guts to make good on his flirting, doubted he was Encke’s type anyway if the lieutenant’s taste in pretty navigators was anything to go by.

He ran into Deimos’ navigator—Athos—on the way down to the wash room where he knew the lieutenant showered after gym every Monday. The prissy little blond glared at Cain as he passed, arms folded and narrowing his cold blue eyes, disapproving and hostile. He hated Cain and made no secret about it, and Cain was too pissed to leave things well enough alone this time, too pissed to ignore him, especially with Deimos avoiding Cain over the last couple of days, his panties in a twist over something.

Cain scowled just thinking about it. “What the fuck are you looking at, slut?” The little bitch was always trying to get between Cain and Deimos, filling Deimos’ head with bullshit and trying to get them to stop seeing each other. He was clingy and jealous after getting fucked, that was all, and Cain would have told Deimos to keep his dick in his pants to prevent shit like this from happening if only Deimos listened to him. Wasn’t like Deimos cared about the little bitch anyway, was only using him like a whore, and maybe it was about time Athos knew it.

Athos’ mouth fell open at that, like Cain had given him a good backhander. Cain sneered at him. "Keep your grubby fucking hands off Deimos if you know what’s good for you," he warned, flicking the navigator’s jacket, shoving his shoulder and leaving him standing there with his mouth agape, still too stunned at being called a slut to talk back to Cain.

Good thing he kept his mouth shut, too, or Cain might have had to sock him in the eye, or better—drag him off somewhere to show him how a real man fucked, make him forget all about Deimos.

* * *

The wash room was empty but for Encke by the time Cain got there, perfect for a little showdown. Cain stripped off his clothes and left them on a bench, headed to the shower room where he could hear the dull spray of water from behind the door.

The air was so full of steam Cain could barely see or breathe. He squinted and spotted Encke pressed into a far corner, covered in soap suds and scrubbing hands through his buzzed hair.

Cain smirked and sauntered towards him, refusing to be afraid. “You still want to hold my hand, sir?” he asked to announce himself.

Encke spun around to face him, looking surprised for a moment before his expression relaxed, like Cain was no real threat to him. He said, “Heh. Reliant. What do you want?”

Cain leant a shoulder against the wall and looked Encke square in the eye, running a hand down over his own chest as the hot water sluiced over his body. Encke’s eyes didn’t follow. “What do you think?” Cain asked, letting his eyes fall to Encke’s throat and back up again.

Encke raised a brow at him. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

Cain snorted. Should have guessed Encke would pull this bullshit. “You mean all that flirting was for nothing?" he asked, tilting his head to one side. "You’re just gonna back out now, pretend you haven’t been messing with me? Didn’t pick you for a tease, sir. Or a pussy.”

The corner of Encke’s mouth quirked. “You think I was flirting with you? That’s cute.” He spat water out of his mouth then, looked Cain up and down and snorted. “You got something you think I’ll want? Because I’m not here to play games with you, Reliant.” He wasn’t? If this wasn’t a game, for both of them, then Cain didn’t know what was.

Cain flashed him a smirk and licked water droplets from his lips. “Why don’t you find out for yourself if I've got something you want?” Even if he was rusty at trying to be seductive -- these days preferring to blunder in and take what he wanted instead of standing around waiting to be asked -- it seemed to work on Encke.

Cain was surprised at that, hadn’t fully expected him to be stupid or bored enough to go for it but was pleased he had. If fucking Encke was what it was going to take to get him to lay the fuck off, then Cain didn’t mind doing what needed to be done. It’d been a while since he’d got laid, and Encke wasn’t so bad to look at--with his even dark skin, green eyes and pretty mouth. Cain had fucked a lot worse for a lot less.

"Heh." Encke touched Cain’s shoulder then, considering him for a long moment, then stepped forward, bending his head and pressing his warm mouth to Cain’s skin. Cain shuddered involuntarily as Encke’s teeth grazed his neck. It'd been too long since he’d been touched, not since the fight he’d had with Abel the night before he’d left, when Abel had tried to get him to vow he wouldn’t fuck anyone else and Cain had refused to make that promise.

After Abel was gone he’d wanted him back so fucking bad he’d done it anyway—hadn’t touched Deimos or any of the other slutty navigators who threw him horny looks in the hallways—but he was breaking that silent promise now, someone else’s hands and mouth and skin on him and the room was spinning.

Encke sucked gently on his neck, rubbing along his arm, and Cain let out an impatient little growl. If he was going to let himself get bent over and fucked in the showers, he didn’t want gentle. Just fast and rough and hard, hard enough to hurt, to forget Abel was gone somewhere Cain couldn’t follow, where he didn’t know if Abel was ever coming back to him.

Encke drew back and appraised him with a smirk, brushing back Cain’s wet hair and trailing fingers down his neck, cupping the back of his head. “You know, if you’re trying to look scary when you make that face,” he laughed, “I’ll tell you now it’s not working. You just look fucking cute instead.” Cain sneered and Encke ducked forward to kiss it from his lips.

Cain let him even if he was pissed at being laughed at, looked at like he was some sort of fucking puppy instead of a challenge. He tried not to balk at the unfamiliar taste of Encke’s mouth, the way he felt nothing like Abel did, too big and rough and with none of Abel’s softness or shy little moans.

Encke reached up to brush fingers across Cain’s nipples, eliciting a little moan, and pushed his tongue inside Cain’s mouth, kiss turning rough and brutal like it never did with Abel. He dropped a hand between them and curled his fingers tight around Cain’s cock, pulling him off in sharp, hard strokes, like he wanted to make him come and not the other way round.  It’d work too unless Cain put a stop to it now, showed Encke he was willing to give him what he wanted if he’d only back off a bit. No point fucking, letting Encke jerk him off, unless he was getting something out of it too.

He brushed Encke’s hand away from his cock and started to turn around, facing the wall, ready to let Encke take what he wanted from him, when Encke stopped him with a hand on his shoulder, shaking his head. “No.”

Cain threw him a confused look. No? All Cain could hear was the spray of the shower and his pulse pounding in his ears.

“You don’t have to do that. This is good,” Encke finished. He quirked a smile and pulled Cain back against his chest, kissing him again, mouth hot and firm. He took Cain’s cock and his own, throwing his free arm around Cain’s shoulders, their foreheads pressed together, and jerked them off at the same time, hard cocks sliding together, Encke shuddering when Cain let out a groan and wrapped his fingers round his, stroking both of them.

Encke slipped a thumb over the head of Cain’s cock, rubbing it back and forth, and nipped at his mouth, pushing his tongue inside when Cain parted his lips to let out a low groan. He kissed back until his lips were sore, tried not to think about Abel off somewhere on a new ship, doing this as well, fucking around behind his back because he thought—and thought right—that Cain was doing the same. Probably fucking Keeler every night like he’d always wanted to now that Cain—and Encke—were out of the picture. Now that they had all the time in the world to do as they pleased.

Encke sucked on his jaw and made him forget about all of it, tightening his fingers beneath Cain’s and squeezing him, jerking roughly. Cain hissed as he came hard between their fingers, staring Encke down and slapping his hand away with a growl as he finished the other man off hard and fast, lip between his teeth as he watched. Encke swore and let his head fall to Cain’s shoulder as he shuddered and came, curling a hand around Cain's hip and digging his fingernails into his flesh. When he was done he ran his hands up and down Cain's sides, over his back and shoulder-blades, pulling him in close with his lips on Cain's neck.

Cain froze and made a face, hadn't planned on being cuddled and petted after he'd jerked the guy off. He wondered for the first time if Encke was as tense about Keeler's absence as Cain was about Abel's, and if he felt as fucked up about this as Cain did.

* * *

"You know you've got a lot of potential, kid."

Cain faced the wall as he pulled his pants on, ignoring Encke as he towelled his hair dry. Didn’t want to hear bullshit after he’d fucked around with the lieutenant, like anything the man said after that would mean a fucking thing. At the end of the day it’d been worth it if Encke went easier on him, stopped trying to make an example out of him, but trying to flatter him like this wasn’t going to fly. Encke thought he was a whore and he was right. 

“You need to stop fucking around and picking fights, lose that goddamn attitude. You hearing me, Reliant?”

“Yeah,” Cain muttered and pulled on his shirt, his back to Encke.

“Good,” Encke finished. He sighed and put a hand on Cain’s shoulder, squeezing it. “You do that and I can help you go far. Think about it.” He brushed Cain’s hair one last time, fingers lingering on the back of his neck, and left.

Cain waited until he was gone before he slammed his locker closed and sat down on the bench with his head in his hands, trying not to think about how Abel would look at him if he found about this, if he knew just how far Cain was willing to go to get himself ahead.


End file.
